Rainy Day
by Jade the Sith
Summary: Luke and Han bored on a rainy day. Obvious chaos ensues.


Well, I'm still figuring out all the markup codes for this place, and being very frustrated. But besides that, I posted this on the Skywalker/Solo Yahoo Group and just thought why not put it here. The italics are marked 'italics'.  
  
Summary: Han and Luke on a rainy day. Obvious chaos ensues.  
  
Disclaimer: Well, Lucas shows no sign of wanting me to inherit his empire (can you believe it!?) so, for now, he still owns all this.  
  
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Luke Skywalker listened to the constant drip, drip, drip of the pouring rain outside and sighed from his position on the bed. Courscant wasn't like Yavin IV, where he could go out a run in the rain, which he enjoyed immensely. Jogging through the city of Courscant in a thunderstorm was a very stupid thing to do.  
  
Okay, so he did it 'once'. He wasn't stupid enough to do it again, though.  
  
Sighing again, he rolled onto his side. Book chips? Read them. Holos? Seen them. He'd flicked on the holovision, but nothing was on. He'd tried meditation, but he couldn't concentrate, the chronic water making loud drops outside his apartment.  
  
His sighs seemed endless as he did so again and wondered what Leia was doing.  
  
Leia! He thought, jolting up. He should go visit her; maybe play with the kids.  
  
He ran to his comm quickly and flicked it on; Leia's code on speedial, and it started ringing when a thought crossed him.  
  
Leia was at a meeting! Big Senate meeting, even more boring then him sitting in his room. Both Leia and Winter were at attendance. And no one had called for help with the children, which means they must be gone too.  
  
Which only left-  
  
The comm picked up. "Hey kid!"  
  
-Han.  
  
Now Luke was unsure of what too say. Last time he had come over, he and Han had fixed the 'Falcon', which pretty much ended in Luke getting a severe hand burn, and Han having a family of bruises all across his face.  
  
Normal. But Luke didn't want to do it again.  
  
"Eh, hi Han."  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"Well, nothing. That's the problem."  
  
Han gave him a raised eyebrow. "Bored?" he teased.  
  
Luke squirmed under Han's insistent gaze.  
  
"I didn't think Jedi masters we're 'allowed' to be bored," Han continued.  
  
"I'm not bored!" Luke protested.  
  
"Careful, Luke," Han mock-admonished. "Boredom is of the Dark Side." He chuckled at his own remark.  
  
"I am not bored!" Luke repeated. "I--I just wanted to check up on Leia and I remembered she was at a meeting."  
  
Han smirked at Luke. "Luke, how many tiles are on your 'fresher floor?"  
  
"Four-hundred and sixty-seven," Luke stated flatly, wondering what this had to do with anything.  
  
Han let loose a full-blown howl of laughter. "You're too much, Luke. You're bored out of you mind, get over here."  
  
"Han-I really don't-"  
  
Han lifted up a hand. "Don't worry, no 'Falcon' this time. I swear."  
  
Luke bit his lip and nodded. "See you in five minutes."  
  
How much trouble could they get into?  
  
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!  
  
"You're going to 'what'!?" Luke demanded.  
  
Han grinned as he bared a heavy pot. "Cook!" he repeated.  
  
Luke gave him an incredulous look. "'You' cook!?"  
  
Han responded with an offended look. "Not everyone lives of rations like you do, Luke. Some people 'can' cook."  
  
"I know, but-"  
  
"Who do you think cooks all the time!? 'Leia'!?"  
  
Luke had to laugh at that. The memories of Leia in the kitchen were both humorous, but also very messy.  
  
Luke sighed, giving in, as he heard the rain outside still. Cooking was better then counting his floor tiles again.  
  
Taking the medium sized bowl Han offered him he set it onto the counter. "Where are the kids?" he asked. "And Chewie?"  
  
"Overnight school field trip. Chewie's going as a chaperone."  
  
Luke raised his eyebrows at the thought of the Solo children's teacher, frail Ms. Genings, with a growling Chewbacca, not to mention thirty odd five to eight-year-old children running rampant. "And they let him?"  
  
Han shrugged as he pulled out some Corellian spices. "Don't see why not. He took Threepio for translation, so that makes me a happy smuggler."  
  
"Ex-smuggler," Luke reminded wryly.  
  
Han put on another offended look. "Once a smuggler, always a smuggler," he commented, pointing a warning finger to the younger man.  
  
Luke let loose a shrug with a smile. "Whatever you say."  
  
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"How," Han began, "In all the nine Corellian hells can you think a cup of hrish-rice should be one cup per person?"  
  
Luke shrugged and surveyed the scene once more. The Corellian hrish-rice was all over the floor, spilling out of the stove pot. The lack of the oven's loud finished 'ding' had resulted in the pot roast had exploded out of the oven, making the oven a territory of disaster; its door in need of repair. The pot roast, from what had not imploded in the oven was all over Han and Luke. And the ryshcake had been burnt beyond recognition.  
  
"This it your fault!" Han declared. "You no-good, talent-less, Jedi! Now I know why you live off ration bars all the time!"  
  
Luke sighed. "Come on, Han. It's not so bad-"  
  
"And I invited some guys over to eat this!!!"  
  
Now Luke took a step back. "What!?"  
  
Han sat down on the counter, meeting, with a satisfying 'squish', a glop of hrish-rice. Groaning he put his head between his hands.  
  
"Why would you do that!?" Luke demanded.  
  
Han gestured to the mess around them. "You can't eat Corellian food alone! You need to do it with 'everyone'!"  
  
"Who!?" Luke asked, incredulous.  
  
"Corran, Wedge, Wes, Hobbie, Lando, and Tycho," Han groaned, listing pretty much everyone he knew.  
  
Luke whistled as he shook his head. "You could have told me!" he insisted.  
  
Han just replied with a louder groan.  
  
"Han-"  
  
"We'll just have to do take out," Han replied.  
  
"No, Han-"  
  
"I'll comm them. And the guys too. They can't come here for take out."  
  
"Um, Han . . ."  
  
"Do you have the code? I know it's here somewhere . . ."  
  
"HAN!"  
  
"What!?"  
  
The forgotten, boiling water was bubbling over the top of the pot, onto the counter. Han jumped up with a yelp and slammed onto the floor as the water continued to flow free, pouring onto his feet. Slipping among the remains of the hrish-rice, he fell face first into a surprised looking Jedi.  
  
From down on the floor Luke sighed. "I'll call the take out."  
  
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"What!?" Wedge cried. "What do you mean 'exploded'!?"  
  
"I, eh, exploded the meal. We'll have to cancel."  
  
Wedge was howling with laughter when Luke sighed off the comm and slid down onto the nearby couch.  
  
"You should come with a warning label, Kid," Han replied, resting on the armchair. " 'DON'T LET IN CONTACT WITH KITCHEN'. I'm surprised you haven't blown up your entire kitchen yet."  
  
Luke rolled onto his stomach his face meeting a pillow. "Go away, Han."  
  
"I don't think Leia will be happy when she finds a nerf pot roast marks on the kid's wall."  
  
"I don't know how that got there!" Luke protested.  
  
Han could see the Kid was slipping back into boredom and depression, and by the Force, when the Kid did that, everyone became depressed. Looked like it was up to Han to cheer up a bored to death Jedi.  
  
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"Charades?" Han suggested, knowing it was all but futile. He had gone through every game he could think of, and Luke still refused to play any of them.  
  
"We need more people," Luke pointed out. "For teams."  
  
"Come on, Kid! 'You' think of something!"  
  
Luke propped himself up with an elbow on the couch's plush pillow and gave a half-shrug. "I really don't know."  
  
Exasperated, Han shot out of the chair, and stalked out of the room.  
  
Luke gave a startled blink. He 'was' being rather negative. Maybe he should go after Han and apologize to him . . .  
  
But he didn't have too, for a second later; Han walked right back in, hands full of toy ships.  
  
Dumping all the miniature ships onto the floor, Han pointed stubbornly at the toys and said, with the diplomacy of a three-year-old, "Play."  
  
Luke suppressed a smile. "Come on, Han. These are Anakin's to-"  
  
"Play."  
  
Shooting Han a glance with a wry smile, Luke slid onto the floor next to the ships and picked up a small Y-Wing.  
  
"Han, seriously I-"  
  
But Luke stopped as he gazed intently at the Y-Wing. He lifted it above his head and looked on the bottom side of it.  
  
"Wow, they make these things really detailed."  
  
But Han was to busy making noises for his speeder to notice.  
  
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"Red Squadron this is the 'Millennium Falcon', over." Han made a gargling sound with his throat, trying to imitate comm static.  
  
Luke brought forth his X-wing, and imitated the static himself saying, "'Falcon', this is Red Leader, over."  
  
Bringing out the replica of the 'Falcon', Han swung it around Luke's head, making whirring noises. "We have the target in our sites, over."  
  
"Identification," Luke began, lifting up several TIE's and other random Imperial ships his hand could find. "One TIE squad, seven squints; five eyeballs, over."  
  
"Doesn't look good Leader," Han stated.  
  
"Looks impossible."  
  
The two men grinned at each other and said together, "Never tell me the odds!"  
  
Then, hefting several TIE's, Han swung the 'Falcon' around, making shooting noises, and mock-explosion sounds, as the TIE's found their way to the ground. Luke did the same with his X-wing model, and the Imperial enemies made their way down to nine.  
  
As Han grabbed a 'squint', from the ground, he felt it lurch out of his hand and began to inexplicitly float in the air. He was about to protest loudly out of shock when he heard laughing behind him, and saw Luke chuckling.  
  
Han then noticed the three X-wing's circling his head, via the Force.  
  
"That's cheating!" Han cried, as he lifted up his still stationary 'Falcon'. "You gotta play like the rest of us!"  
  
Luke sighed, and let the ships drop out of the sky-  
  
-Where several hit Han in the head.  
  
Luke burst out laughing again, and Han turned to glare at his brother-in- law while rubbing his head.  
  
"Hey! That hurt!" he cried, his voice sounding suspiciously like five-year- old Anakin's.  
  
Luke just laughed harder.  
  
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It was Luke's turn to play Imperial when the take-out arrived.  
  
The doorbell chimed and together they shouted, "I'll get it!" and began wrestling each other to the door.  
  
Between Force tricks and street tricks, it was a fair match between both. But Luke pulled a nasty move, which involved a backhand twist and flipping Han onto his back. While his friend remained groaning on the floor Luke opened the door to reveal a very wet looking female human.  
  
So it was still raining. Luke had been to busy playing to notice.  
  
Han sat up from his place on the floor. "What is it?" he asked.  
  
"Pizza," the woman in front of Luke said before either could reply.  
  
Han shot both a confused look. "What's that?"  
  
The woman looked around confused between Luke and Han. Both their cheeks were flustered, hair tussled, and one was sitting on the floor.  
  
"Say, aren't you-"  
  
"Nope," they both said together. "Just some incredible look-alikes," Luke added, and pulled out approximately the right amount of credits, grabbed the "pizza" box and exchanged it for the credits and shut the door.  
  
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"What 'is' this?" Luke demanded, inspecting the "pizza" from top to bottom before even gesturing to taste it.  
  
"No idea," said the muffled voice of Han and turned to see his brother-in- law chomping happily on the cheesy substance. "But it's good!"  
  
"I'm not so sure, Han. You call pittin food edible."  
  
"I do not!" Han defended, and shoved the box of pittin food in the toy basktet behind him before Luke could see.  
  
Unfortunately Luke saw the pittin food sprinkled on the "pizza".  
  
Luke shook his head in disgust. "Case closed."  
  
Han shrugged and took another bite of his pittin food enhanced "pizza". "Suit yourself. I think it makes it taste zesty."  
  
Luke stifled a laugh at Han's choice of word and took a tentative bite of the substance of bread, meat, and cheese before him.  
  
A warm taste blossomed in his mouth and greedily he took another bite while Han shot him a 'told-ya-so' glance.  
  
Collapsing onto the couch with his pizza when he heard an unmistakable 'crunch'.  
  
Jumping up, two things happened at once. Luke spotted the, now-broken, X- wing toy, and his pizza went flying off his plate and into Han's face.  
  
"Luke!" Han roared, pulling the cheesy substance off his face, only to see the younger man snickering at him.  
  
"Why you . . ." Han scrambled up from his spot on the floor, and with his own pizza began chasing the Jedi around his apartment, pizza as his chosen weapon.  
  
Normally, Luke, Jedi Master, would have beaten Han hands down at running. But normally, there weren't toy machines spread across the floor. And with that, Luke promptly tripped over a well-used, well-loved AT-AT Imperial Walker.  
  
And jumping at his chance, Han slammed his own pizza into Luke's face without a second thought.  
  
Now Han was at the mercy of Luke's glare but it only took one moment for both to crack up in laughter.  
  
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"I can believe you broke it!" Han cried, when both had finally cleaned up the pizza off their hands/faces/shirts.  
  
Luke sighed from his place on the floor. Both fit in an old, 'old' shirts of Hans, and hair wet from the thorough face washing, they had now turned to the broken X-wing. Luke had looked over it and called for Han to get some simple craft glue. Han was still looking for it now.  
  
"You know, you think Leia would put it where I had it!" Han called from over the other side of the living room.  
  
"Where did you last have it?"  
  
"On the kitchen floor."  
  
Luke shook his head.  
  
"Ah!" A cry of victory could be heard and Han's head appeared from behind a cabinet door. "Found it!" Han produced the product and tossed it to Luke, who promptly caught it.  
  
"Where was it?"  
  
Han scowled in disgust. "In the craft closet of all places! Who would have thought to look there?"  
  
Luke just raised an eyebrow and glanced over the instructions.  
  
"Says 'keep out of reach of children'!" Luke informed. "You'll have to leave."  
  
"Ha, ha," Han bit back, shutting the craft closet that Leia kept when she was feeling 'homey', as she eloquently put it. Han had questions on her sanity about that, especially when she had 'attempted' to make the kids scrapholos. Disaster. Han was still digging holo parts out of Anakin's hair hours after it had exploded. The twins claimed ignorance, but Han knew better. They were his kids after all.  
  
He heard Luke grunt with effort and turned to see that the all-great, only Jedi Master of the New Republic was unable to get the cap off the glue.  
  
Chuckling at the irony of it all, Han ambled over to the younger man and snatched the glue out of his hands. He pulled at the cap and it . . .  
  
Was stuck.  
  
It was stuck. It was glued shut with . . . glue!  
  
Luke smirked knowingly. "Not so easy, is it?"  
  
Han made a big show of wastefully and repeatedly tugging on the top. But nothing happened.  
  
Growling angrily, Han shoved it back in Luke's face. "Use your Jedi stuff."  
  
But even the Force was no match for a glue bottle with its cap pasted on.  
  
"The Force doesn't work!" Luke cried.  
  
"Here." Han made 'gimme-gimme' gestures. "Lemme see it again."  
  
Luke handed over the stubborn bottle to Han again who, abruptly, held it top down and slammed it into the table with such a force that it tables wobbled and Han could have sworn he saw a chunk of wood pop out one of the left legs.  
  
And, amazingly, glue poured forth. But not, of course, after the bottle exploded. And glue poured out of the bottle and onto everything else, including the table, Han, Luke, the floor, and it completely drenched the X- wing in a over excessive amount of paste.  
  
That was, of course, the precise moment that Leia Organa Solo choose to walk in the apartment.  
  
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'What,' Leia thought to herself, 'have I done to deserve this?'  
  
Of course, she realized she sounded like Threepio. But even Threepio didn't deserve this.  
  
Her brother and her husband, 'two grown men', were sitting on the floor, covered in remains of sauce, glue, and water. Not to mention the table, floor, furniture and walls.  
  
"Um, I'm going!" Luke cried, jumping up, but Leia shoved him back on the floor.  
  
"Clean!" she yelled at the both, and stalking to the kitchen, grabbed a rag and then threw it in her husband's face.  
  
"Yes ma'am."  
  
!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!  
  
After Luke and Han had scrubbed the whole apartment thoroughly Leia had inspected it. It passed.  
  
Just barely, though.  
  
Taking hours, the nerf pot roast being especially stubborn, the noxious fumes of the cleaning supplies had started to get to Leia and she left, returning a couple hours later.  
  
She glanced at the two men, collapsed on her now clean couch.  
  
"Out," she ordered, pointing to the door.  
  
"No," both the ex-smuggler and ex-farmboy whined together. "It's raining," Han added.  
  
Leia shook her head. "The rain stopped twenty minutes ago."  
  
Luke and Han shared disbelieving glances and immediately scrambled to the nearest window where is showed, just like Leia had said, no rain.  
  
"I don't want to," Luke pouted and Han included the whole lower lip for effect.  
  
Eyeing them both carefully, Leia sat down in the armchair. Quietly she sighed and looked up at both of them, who were looking rather pitiful.  
  
"So, what happened today?"  
  
She regretted it immediately.  
  
~Fin~  
  
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Hope you enjoyed it-no flames. 


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